The Towering Triumph of Darkwing Duck
by Aaron D
Summary: Darkwing faces off against his archenemy...


The Towering Triumph of Darkwing Duck

"Ha, ha!" cackled the large, anthropomorphic supervillain. "Finally, I, Doctor Slug, have Darkwing Duck at my mercy!" He revved his chainsaw, brought it closer to the feathered hero and his sidekick. Closer...closer... 

"Stop!" Darkwing screamed. If he'd been the star of a television show, the scene would have stopped right there, and he'd have told the audience that he'd rather recount some more interesting, less dangerous time. Maybe the time Binky Muddlefoot had thought she was a superhero herself. Yeah, that'd be the one. 

But this wasn't a TV show, not even a cartoon, and he would have to handle this himself. Launchpad cringed, hiding himself behind his partner's body, regardless of the fact that Darkwing was half his massive size. Dr. Slug waved the tool-turned-weapon around recklessly. 

DW knew that while he could get around Dr. Slug's weapon, any blow he landed on the cybernetic mollusk would be ineffective, either plunging harmlessly into his fleshy body or bouncing painfully off his robotic enhancements. His trusty gas gun, loaded with salt pellets, lay uselessly down on the pavement, fifteen stories below. He was out of options. 

"Wait!" shouted Darkwing, kneeling on the ground and clasping his hands. "Please, Dr. Slug, please don't kill us!" Launchpad stuck his around Darkwing's shoulder. "Right!" he echoed. "Right!" 

Dr. Slug hesistated for an instant. "Hmmm," he wondered. "Why, my dear avian, should I not harm you?" His crazed voice reached new levels of evilness. "It's what I've waited to do for years! Ah-hahaha!!" 

He whipped the chainsaw around again, the motor noisily exhaling exhaust. "And now," he added, "I have finally beaten you! My slug army has robbed every jewelry store in St. Canard! I'm rich, and I can finally finish off my most persistent nemesis!" 

"Oh, God!" Darkwing begged. "Please don't kill us! Oh, please!" He realized the amount of humiliation inherent in his pleas, but he no longer cared. He'd do anything to save his and Launchpad's lives. 

Dr. Slug stopped. "This is embarrassing." 

Darkwing stopped his groveling. Launchpad, however, did not. "We'll do anything! Anything! Just let us live!" DW was shocked at how the pilot's words mirrored his own thoughts. 

"Anything, Mr. McQuack?" Dr. Slug giggled maniacally. "Very well, then go upstairs, to the roof." 

The slug followed Darkwing Duck and his sidekick up the outer stairs. "Let's see....sit on opposing sides of the flagpole." He used his robotic arms to tie the two to it, using steel cable. "Haaah! I wonder how long you two'll be here before help arrives? Maybe you can get out on your own? No, I don't think so." 

He slithered toward the stairs. "I believe it's time I took my leave of St. Canard." His eye stalks turned back in Darkwing's direction. "I hope you're grateful for my sparing of your lives. It would have caused me far less pain and anguish to kill you." 

"I'll get you next time, Dr. Slug!" Darkwing threatened. 

"No," the mollusk answered, "you won't. I won't be here, you see. This city offers no challenge for me anymore. 

"I don't commit crimes for the money, or even for the thrill of causing others pain," he continued. "I do it to match wits with _you_, Darkwing Duck. And now, that pleasure is gone. I have finally defeated you. There is nothing else for me in St. Canard." He moved down the stairs and out of sight, muttering, "Maybe that Gizmoduck fellow could offer a challenge..." 

Launchpad wriggled around in his captivity. "How're we gonna get out of this, DW?" 

Darkwing growled. "Shut up, Launchpad." 

The pilot persisted. "C'mon, we gotta stop Dr. Slug! Use your chainsaw cufflinks, or whatever!" 

"My cufflinks broke when I tried to cut through Dr. Slug's armor, remember?" 

"Well, then, something else!" Launchpad recalled his friend's other accoutrements. "Don't you have any more acid pellets?" 

"No! I used them on the slug army!" 

"Oh," Launchpad said, mollified. "If ever a time for super powers...too bad we don't have any, right, DW?" 

Darkwing growled. No, he didn't have any super powers. They weren't necessary, or so he thought. But now, Dr. Slug had completely humiliated them---no, he had humiliated himself. Now he and Launchpad would have to stew here until the police or someone worse, like Grizzlykov, came and saved them. The growl in Darkwing's throat grew to a howl, and then a cry. He screamed incoherently into the night for countless moments. 

It was well near dawn of the next day when the police arrived and cut them free. 

The Towering Triumph of Darkwing Duck  
  
by Aaron D. Roberts  
  
_Part One_  
  


  


_Darkwing stomped his webbed foot on the sidewalk. "Oh, man, here I am, trapped in this weird world with my archenemy---" _

Megavolt's eyes widened. "Really? I'm your archenemy?! I always thought Dr. Slug was your archenemy..." 

Darkwing sighed, rather than contradict the electrically-charged rat and crush his self-confidence. 

*** 

"Gee, DW," Launchpad said, sitting in the sidecar of the Ratcatcher as it sped down the streets of St. Canard. "Are you sure that Ammonia Pine's gonna be hiding out in the Squeaky Clean Sponge Factory?" 

"It's her usual _modus operandi_, LP," Darkwing explained. "She won't be hiding out in a Hamburger Hippo or anything. We've got to stop her before she unleashes her army of automated vaccuum cleaners on the city!" 

Launchpad scratched his massive chin. What DW wouldn't give to have a chin like that! Boy, the ladies'd be all over him then! Of course, the suave, debonair Darkwing Duck would never be completely obvlivious to their advances like his big sidekick was. Yeah, that'd be the ticket...Darkwing was lost in a fantasy, populated by his large-chinned self and several ladies who had other parts of their anatomy which matched his chin's proportions when he ran a stoplight. 

"Uh, DW, you just ran a red light," Launchpad informed him. 

Woops! Darkwing played it off nonchalantly. "Sometimes, LP, rules have to be broken in order to preserve law and order." 

"Sure, DW, but shouldn't we stop? There's a police car chasing us." Suddenly Darkwing was aware of the flashing red, white, and blue lights and the wailing of the siren. 

"O---K," Darkwing admitted, slowing down the motorcycle and pulling over to the side of the street. Surely these men of the law would respect his abilities as a crime-fighter, and send him on his way. 

A portly policeman exited the car and marched over to where the superheroes sat patiently on the motorbike. "All right, boys, sure'n ye know ye ran a red light there?" He had a marked Irish accent. Why did two-thirds of the cops in St. Canard have Irish accents? 

"Greetings, fellow upholder of society!" Darkwing said with a flourish. "I am the terror the flaps in the night! I am the fingers on the long arm of the law! I am....Darkwing Duck!" 

The police officer seemed umimpressed. "Sure'n that's wonderful, me lad. Now, what were ya thinkin' when ye sped past that stoplight?" He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and began to write on it. 

"I was in pursuit of a nefarious super-villain capable of destroying the city," Darkwing explained. 

"Okay, well then," the police officer said, ripping a sheet of paper off of the notepad, "Next time you're fixin' ta stop those crazy badguys, don't forget ta follow our special traffic laws, alrighty?" He handed DW the ticket. 

"But you don't understand! I am---" 

"Th' terror that flaps in th' night, I know." The policeman walked back to his car, started the engine, and drove away. 

"Gee," said Launchpad, "that guy sure was friendly." 

"What are you talking about, LP?" Darkwing demanded. "C'mon, you'd think he'd have _some_ respect for my profession!" Darkwing was, indeed, shocked. The policeman should have at least recognized him, if not respected him. Why didn't they ever admire him, like they did Gizmoduck? Oooh, he hated Gizmoduck! That glass-jawed freak! Giz had only been to St. Canard three times, yet he still had a huge cult following among the ordinary citizenry, something Darkwing envied. His cult following was more like fans at a science fiction convention---and not the regular fans, either. His fans were the crazy ones. 

It wasn't like he was some sort of nut or anything. He just liked to try and terrify his opponents. And what was wrong with that? A superhero without super-powers had to use whatever advantages he could get (try that, Mr. "I Have Built-In Gadgets For Every Possibility"!). 

"Uhh, DW?" 

"What is it, Launchpad?" 

"Shouldn't we get movin', here?" 

Darkwing shook his head. "Right. Let's go." He revved the Ratcatcher and took off, taking careful pains to not run any red lights. 

The Fiendish Organization for World Larceny. FOWL. Sometimes, one had to go to great lengths to find an anagram that would sound both classy and frightening. A little pretentious, but it was clean and neat nonetheless. 

Ammonia placed the last jar on the shelf. Ahh, completion. Now the pickles were not only in alphabetical order, from Bread and Butter to Dill to Kosher and beyond, but they were also in chronological order---oldest jars first, then the newer jars. 

"Mistress Pine," an automated vaccuum cleaner advised, "we have customers." 

Oh, darn it! Why had she set up shop in this Hamburger Hippo, anyway? At least she finally had the store orderly. Whoever ran this restaurant before she took over should've been shot! Actually, he had been. Never mind, then. 

"I'm goin' out," she said to her automatons. "Stay here." 

"Geez, Launchpad," said Darkwing. "Can't you go fifteen minutes without a snack?" 

"Well," Launchpad said thoughtfully, "I guess I could, but I wouldn't be able to operate up to full speed, you know?" 

Darkwing groaned. 

Ammonia entered through the small door. "What can I get for you gentlemen---ulp!" What was Darkwing Duck doing here? He couldn't have figured out where she was! How did he---? She was clueless. 

"Two Hippo-rifics, two orders of fries, and---" 

"So!" Ammonia said, drawing out her sud-shooter. "You've finally found me, Darkwing Duck! But I'll never give in! I'll stop you here, for the glory of FOWL!" 

"FOWL?" Darkwing said, confused. "What are you talking about?" 

"DW!" Launchpad shouted. "It's Ammonia Pine!" 

"Aha!" said Darkwing, reaching the ultimate conclusion. "So you thought hiding out in a Hamburger Hippo would throw me off the trail, did you, Pine? Well, then, I am the terror the flaps in the night---" 

"Shut up!" Ammonia shot lethal soap bubbles at the duo. 

Darkwing said, "Aha!" once more, dodging the suds. Pine had caught him unprepared, but he still knew he could catch her. He brought out his gas gun and fired. 

*** 

"Excellent work, Darkwing," said J. Gander Hooter, opening the file upon his desk. "Agent Pine is currently in our custody, and hopefully, with her testimony, we can figure out what FOWL is up to this time around." 

"Thanks, J. Gander," Darkwing replied, striking a heroic pose. "Once again, Darkwing Duck emerges from battle, triumphant, undefeated---" 

"Actually," said Agent Grizzlykov, "I think you have certainly been defeated once, if I recall correctly." 

Darkwing frowned at the large, Russian bear. "What I was going to say was, 'undefeated by the agents of FOWL.' But thank you _so_ much for reminding me of that." 

Grizzlykov smirked. "If you chose to follow standard SHUSH procedures, you would no doubt never have lost to that criminal upstart, Doktor Slug." 

"Standard SHUSH procedure doesn't cover ordinary, independent supervillians, muzzle-face," Darkwing countered. 

"SHUSH procedures are relevant to every situation conceivable---" 

"Yeah," said Darkwing sarcastically. "I'll bet you brush your teeth according to the instructions in the SHUSH Manual of Operations, too." 

"For your information, SHUSH code 34, section 49-A clearly states, 'all agents are to utilize an up-and-down stroke when cleansing the dental area, as opposed to the side-to-side method---'" 

"Gentlemen!" J. Gander interrupted. "I hardly think that dental care is at the forefront of our concerns right now." J. Gander's computer console began beeping. "Hold on, I've got a message." He flipped on the viewscreen. "What is it?" 

"Sir," reported Agent Edward R. Burro, formerly known as Darkwing Donkey. "We have an incoming message from FOWL. They're requesting to speak to you personally." 

"Put them through. I'll hold them on the line long enough for you to begin a trace on their transmission." 

"Sir!" Burro said crisply. The screen switched focus, and the three members of FOWL High Command were silhouetted on its surface. 

"Greetings, Darkwing, J. Gander, Grizzlykov," said the one on the right. 

"Hah," Darkwing said, "they still don't have enough courage to show their faces. Cowards." 

"Harsh words indeed," the tall, thin leader of FOWL retorted, "from one who wears a mask to hide his features." Grizzlykov smiled. 

"What are you grinning at, fuzzy-face?!" 

"Darkwing!" shouted the FOWL High Commander. "We don't have time to exchange a verbal riposte." 

"Yes," said the one on the left. "Knowing that you have Agent Pine in custody already, we thought we would save you the trouble of interrogating her and tell you our plans outright." 

"Indeed," affirmed the one in the center. "We thought perhaps you would like to know that our plan to infiltrate St. Canard's municipal government is already complete. We will begin by embezzling money through several political slush funds that we have accumulated. Then we will use our financial gain to acquire nuclear weapons." 

"We will use these weapons," said the one on the right, "to hold the city of Duckburg hostage until such time as we are paid the sum of twenty billion dollars. Otherwise we will torch Duckburg." 

Darkwing saw an opportunity. "Since you're telling us so much, which agents do you have planted in City Hall?" 

"Oh, no," said the leader. "We won't give it all away. Just an interesting taste. Oh, and Agent Pine doesn't know the details, but go ahead and ask her if you don't believe us. I know you will." 

"Why are you telling us this information?" demanded Grizzlykov. 

"Simply put, my friend, you cannot stop us. Oh, and Darkwing?" 

"Yes?" DW responded, his eyes narrowing. 

"Just in case you feel the need to become personally involved in this case, we have hired an outside contractor to assist us...Let me introduce you to Special Agent, Dr. Slug!" 

No. It couldn't be true. But wait, Dr. Slug's large green form slithered out into view. "Haaaah! Haaa haaa!" he cackled insanely. 

"Now," continued the leader of FOWL, "I also know that J. Gander is having this transmission traced, so, until we meet again, farewell. Try and stop us if you want, but I don't think you'll be able to." The screen went blank. 

Grizzlykov pounded his fist on the desk and swore in Russian. "Those fiends!" He quickly activated his wrist communicator. "Begin filing form 227-X, for actively pursuing super-powered secret agents! Also, prepare to fill out forms 945-B and 476-4D, for authorizing SHUSH procedures 3766 and 9834!" 

Darkwing was silent. "Um, Darkwing," J. Gander prompted him, "don't you want to have any input on this case?" 

"Hmm?" Darkwing asked, looking blank. "Oh, yeah, form 227-X. Go ahead and fill that one out." 

"Excellent!" exclaimed Grizzlykov. "It is grand to see you are finally intent upon following the proper procedures! I will fax you copies of the forms. Remember, they are to be filled out in triplicate..." 

"Great," Darkwing said, walking towards the door. "I...need to go back to my lair and...do some research. See ya." 

Maybe he should work together with SHUSH on this one, not take all the responsibility on himself. He obviously couldn't handle Dr. Slug on his own. He needed some help. That admission was possibly the hardest he had ever made. 

No, wait! He was Darkwing Duck! He didn't need SHUSH's help---they needed _his_. He'd go along with their plan, just this once, mind you, to see if it worked or not. Truth to tell, he was somewhat at a loss as to what to do in this situation, anyway. And, if things got boring, he could simply start investigating his own way, like always. 

And, with luck, he wouldn't have to deal with Dr. Slug at all...  
  
  


_END PART ONE_


End file.
